Atypical
by mistress amethyst une
Summary: Janeway and Chakotay, stuck outside a turbolift. Yes, outside.
1. The 1st Hour

**Disclaimer: **ST: VOY is not mine.

**Author's Note: **I always liked writing humor better than angst. Been drowning in angst since I started Inevitable. Hope you don't mind if I write this multi-chapter nonsense on the side. Not sure how many "hours" this will be. xD Oh yeah, this is unbetaed so pardon me. Please bring any punctuation, spelling or grammar errors to my attention. :)

**Atypical**

**By mistress amethyst une**

**The 1st Hour**

They should have figured that they'd have a turbolift interlude unlike any other. Over the past few weeks, rumors swirled of a curse surrounding Voyager's turbolifts. A man and a woman would go in, the thing would break down, a new couple would emerge. The captain and commander? No such luck. They were waiting outside a stalled turbolift. Yes, outside. Trapped on deck three, unable to get to the bridge because transporters were down. Jeffries tubes? The recent power overload would leave them fried if they tried crawling through them.

So here they were... just the two of them because everyone else on the deck ran into the lift before they could. Yes, there were some trapped crewmen in there.

"They deserved it," she couldn't help but think. "Should have given due respect to their superiors and let us on first."

He noted the peeved look on her face. Of all the decks to be trapped on... deck three. Must be the dullest deck on the ship. What exactly was on deck three? His quarters, her quarters, crew quarters, crew quarters, and did he forget to mention crew quarters? Everyone on the deck was either asleep in their respective abodes, on duty, or trapped in the stalled lift. They were the only two in the corridor... great. Well, this was... unique.

He slumped with his back against the turbolift doors, before sliding down to puddle and sit on the floor. She arched an eyebrow at him.

He shrugged. "We're going to be here awhile. Might as well get comfortable."

With an exasperated sigh, she knelt and sat next to him. "It's only been five minutes. Wonder if any of those crewmen are claustrophobic."

"I know Neelix is. Those ensigns should be glad he didn't end up with them."

"You're sure they're all ensigns?"

"I counted a pack of nine when they pushed past us. They weren't really paying attention to who they were bumping into. They seemed to be running late. All yellow uniforms. Judging by their fear, I'd say they're B'Elanna's. Engineers. I didn't see more than one pip on any of them."

"Sharp eyes, Commander. Well, B'Elanna's going to have a tough time fixing this then. She'll be short-handed. Wonder how Harry's going to manage if he has to take the bridge for an extra shift..."

"He'll be fine."

"I don't think so. Baytart's at the helm."

"Ensign Baytart? The one who filed a report against Harry's clarinet playing?"

"The one and only."

"Well, the current tactical officer should be able to keep the peace."

"That would be Brooks..."

"The one who's always doing impressions of you?" he guffawed. "I love how she made the 'bun of doom' her own after you hacked your hair off."

"Bun of doom?"

"Never mind."

"Commander," she said in a warning tone. "Tell me about Brooks. Now."

He opened his mouth to answer, but was interrupted by a sound coming from within a turbolift. Sounded like screaming. They both pressed their ears against the door until the screaming was muffled. If they interpreted what they heard correctly, it appeared that one male ensign had begun panicking. One of his comrades had somehow subdued him and covered his mouth, muffling his screams. The muffled screaming soon stopped.

The captain and commander exchanged confused looks before resuming their old positions, sitting on the floor, side by side, backs against the turbolift doors.

"Do you think they're killing each other off in there?" asked Chakotay.

"After they pushed past us, would it be wrong to hope so?"

"Come on," he said jovially, trying to take the edge of her temper. "They did us a favor. If they hadn't pushed past us, we'd be trapped in there with them. We still wouldn't be able to get to the bridge. Nice and cool out here. They're probably burning up in there. All that body heat unable to escape, the smell of sweat and body odor in a closed confined dark space, nine of them packed in there like sardines... I'd hate for us to have been number ten and eleven."

She sighed. "Still, pushing past your superiors just isn't proper. Anyway, what were we talking about before the shrieking? Brooks? She's been doing impressions of me? I'd like to hear about this."

"You sure?"

"Try me. How accurate is she?"

"You'd be surprised," he laughed. "She can copy your voice exactly. Have you say ridiculous things..."

Her eyes widened. "Like what?"

He cleared his throat, and tried his best to ape an imitation of her voice.

"I am Captain Kathryn Janeway of the Federation Starship Voyager. Cower under my death glare and surrender all your coffee."

It sounded like he'd swallowed a chipmunk who'd been smoking tobacco. He thought it was hilarious.

"It sounded just like you whenever Brooks did it," he added.

She was not amused.

"I _do not_ have a death glare," she remarked, just as she gave him the expression she was so vehemently denying the existence of.

"There it is! She can do all your moods too."

He then went on to demonstrate by pinching the bridge of his nose and posing in the style of Rodin's "The Thinker." She thought he looked constipated.

"She called that one, 'I'm thinking too hard and my head hurts because of it, but I'll keep thinking too hard anyway.' And then there's when you have your hands on your hips. Your superhero pose..."

He broke down laughing.

"Oh ha, you block of wood. Ever think that you have some quirks that the crew might have noticed?"

"Quirks? Me?" he said, as he absentmindedly tugged on his ear.

"There! Right now! Tugging on your ear when you don't know what to say or what's going on."

He looked confusedly at her and continued tugging on his ear before realizing what he was doing and hastily putting a stop to it.

"Ok, you got me," he admitted. "Still, that's just one quirk. And why the hell did you call me a block of wood?"

"Oh, I don't know... you give me that vibe on the bridge. When you're in your chair, staring into nothingness while we're in a particularly peaceful region of space... it's like your mind's gone on holiday. And then, there's that annoying smile..."

"What's annoying about my smile?"

She grinned at him. "I've developed an immunity. Don't think I haven't seen you using that smile to get what you want out of anything and everything on this ship with a va-"

"I get it!" he interrupted, not daring to believe his captain would say something so inappropriate.

She laughed. "And that pout you get when you're flustered-"

"All right. So I have just as many quirks as you. Call it even?"

"Sure," she sighed. "Now what do we talk about?"

"Well, it's been awfully quiet in that lift these past few minutes."

"You think they're dead?"

They pressed their ears against the doors again. It was hard to make out, but there were conversations going on in there. The ensigns were trying to keep each other calm.

"One of them just keeps repeating 'we're gonna die in here,' over and over," she observed. "Male... must have been the screamer from earlier."

"Well, the others are trying to comfort him." Chakotay paused. "One of them's singing to calm him... and it sounds horrible."

"That's a Klingon drinking song... why would she sing him a Klingon drinking song?"

They backed away from the door as screams emanated from the turbolift again. When the screaming stopped, they resumed their listening.

"Well, that put a stop to the singing," she mused.

And the rest of the first hour was spent listening to the suffering of the ensigns who had, though not purposely, shoved their commanding officers out of harm's way and spared them from the hell within the turbolift.

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Hopefully, B'Elanna and my plot bunnies resolve this. Don't want the command team stuck there for twenty-four hours... or do I? Well, surely some crewmen would wake up and join them sooner or later. That'd spoil it. Then again, B'Elanna's short nine engineers... how long can I keep this going while still making some sense? xD And I do have an explanation as to why they're just sitting there instead of going off to their quarters... you'll see. :)


	2. The 2nd Hour

**Disclaimer: **ST: VOY is not mine.

**Author's Note: **Just finished parts four and five of Inevitable. Waiting on my beta for part four, and doing a lot of polishing on part five, and then it'll be done. Until then, here's more insanity…

**Atypical**

**By mistress amethyst une**

**The 2nd Hour**

"We're never going to make it to the bridge in time for our shift," she sighed. "We've been here for a little over an hour. Don't you think we should go and retire to quarters?"

"Good idea," he replied. "As compelling as listening to these ensigns has been, I don't think waiting here's going to do much good. I'm sure B'Elanna will contact us once she gets the lift moving again. Hopefully, after our shift is over…"

She laughed. "Intent on shirking your duty?"

"Well, I've had nothing to do but act like a 'block of wood,' as you put it." He smiled, making sure she knew he didn't take it personally.

He rose first, offering her his hand, and tugging her up. They walked down the hall, stopping at the doors of their respective quarters. He keyed in his code. Nothing happened. He peered over at her, and saw she was having the same problem. Repeatedly, she punched in her code, frustration etching itself on her face.

"Can't get in either?" he finally asked.

She turned her gaze to him. "No such luck. I'm contacting B'Elanna."

She tapped her combadge. "Janeway to Torres. There seems to be a problem with the locking mechanism to the doors of both my quarters and Commander Chakotay's."

A flustered voice replied on the other end. "The power overload shorted all the locking mechanisms aboard. Basically, everything's stuck. Turbolifts are all stalled, all doors locked. I've had calls coming in from all over the ship. Everyone's trapped where they are. Locked in and out of their quarters. Unable to leave the bridge... everything's just stuck."

"Progress?"

"I'm doing the best I can. I'm short nine engineers, but we'll solve this by the end of the day. I'm making transporters my top priority. Also have to get all that power to stop surging through the Jeffries tubes."

"Keep me posted."

"Aye."

"Janeway out."

"So, we're locked out?" said Chakotay.

"Looks like it."

"What do you suggest we do?"

"Well, we can't do anything productive," she sighed. "Couldn't I have been trapped in my ready room?"

He chortled. "I can see you enjoying that. Get a lot of work done and nobody barging in to tell you off about your caffeine intake."

She raised an eyebrow at him, crossing her arms over her chest. "Do you really see your captain as the coffee black hole?"

He shrugged. "Every one of the bridge officers is somehow sterotyped."

"Oh, really?"

"Let's walk," he suggested.

"Where? Deck three is crew quarters upon crew quarters. Each and every section. Rows of closed doors..."

"Stretching our legs beats sitting by that turbolift wondering if B'Elanna's nine engineers have killed themselves off yet."

A small smile crossed her face at his sardonic humor. "Let's go then. And you better keep the conversation interesting... stereotypes?"

He gave a small laugh. "Sure. But we're starting with you. At the top."

"So you're a man who likes to work his way down... all right. I'm game."

They began walking at a leisurely pace. Standing apart, but close enough to occasionally graze each other.

"Let's see," he sighed. "What do they attribute to you aside from being the final resting place of majority of this ship's coffee output?"

She elbowed him, and he couldn't help but grin as she gave him a playful smile.

"Well, there's been much talk about your hair," he finally said.

"My hair?"

"In the earlier years of the journey. Our petite captain wanted to be larger than life so she wore her bun of doom and her high-heeled boots. Our own female Napoleon..."

"Napoleon wasn't really short, you know."

"And neither are you," he said, his sarcasm apparent.

"Well, what did you expect me to do? I'm not exactly commanding if all my subordinates tower over me."

"You're very commanding. Trust me."

"I didn't really like the hair..."

"Is that why you changed it so much?"

"I was trying to make it work. At the end of the day though, it always looked too..."

"Poofy?"

"Exactly. Poofy... is that even a real word?"

"Wouldn't know."

"So, you didn't like my hair long?"

"I liked it. Just wished you'd let it down."

"Let my hair down? Figuratively or literally?"

"Both."

"Come on, I'm not that wound up, am I?"

He bit his lower lip, and offered her another smile.

"Chakotay," she said warningly. "You don't honestly think that."

Now, he seemed entranced by his own shoes as they walked.

"I can't believe you. You think I'm Captain Hard Ass."

He burst out laughing. "I wouldn't put it in exactly those words but- Well, you do turn down socialization more than Seven."

Her eyes widened. "What? You can't possibly mean that. Seven's been out and about more than I have?"

"She was at the last three crew gatherings. I don't blame you for not showing up to some of them. You were incapacitated during the first one. But the other two... how could you prefer doing reports to being with us?"

There was a hint of hurt hidden beneath his candor. She couldn't help feeling a sense of regret.

"I don't know how to respond to that..."

"I've stumped you," he said, trying to reinstate the former lightness of their conversation. "Quite the feat."

She would not be deterred from her guilt. "I'll be there next time. Drag me if you have to."

"Noted."

"So, shall we move on to the next bridge officer, or is there more I should know?"

"There's a lot more you should know," he smirked, "but then, we'd run out of things to discuss over coffee."

"Your turn then... you know what they think of you?"

"Of course. I do play counselor on occasion. And I do keep my ears open, even when it looks like my brain is on holiday."

"Do tell."

"Let's turn back first. Dead end straight ahead."

He was right. She'd been so engrossed by their conversation, she hadn't notice how far they'd walked. There was a wall only a few meters ahead. They turned...

"Back to the turbolift?" she asked.

"I do want to find out how our ensigns are doing."

"Good point. And now, you can tell me what the crew thinks of you?"

"Oh, not much... they think I'm your lap dog."

She stopped in her tracks. "Excuse me?"

"Kathryn, I don't mind. They're just words. We think of each other as equals, and that suits me just fine."

She took a breath, put one hand against the wall and the other on her hip. She wasn't going to budge until he elaborated.

"I was right. They think you're playing lap dog to the Starfleet ice queen. Pulling my sled? That you move when I say mush? I thought we didn't project that image anymore..."

"Kathryn..."

"If only they knew how many times we've butted heads."

She had taken her hand off her hip, and was now pinching the bridge of her nose.

"You're thinking too hard again," he teased, trying to defuse her mood.

She took her hand off the wall, put her hands to her sides, stood ramrod straight, and took a breath. "Fine..."

They resumed walking, an uneasy silence enveloping them for the next few minutes.

"They sort of think of us as their parents," he finally interjected. "And you know how children can have a skewed perception of things."

"If that's the case, in essence, they think you're a pussy-whipped husband."

It was apparent that she wasn't thinking clearly about what she was saying anymore. She almost sounded... protective of him.

He cleared his throat. "This topic is making you uncomfortable."

"Damn right! I can take it if they think of me negatively. I deserve most of it. But you... you've been nothing but the best first officer I've ever had."

"Thank you," he said, feeling a bit of heat rushing to his face. He was both happy and disappointed. That was it? She was protective because he'd been doing his job well? Maybe there was something else she should hear...

They'd stopped walking to give her time to cool her jets. Once they resumed their stroll back to the turbolift, they found it hard to reestablish their easy repartee.

She sighed. "All right. Keep talking... just, no more bombshells. Please."

He saw an opening and took it. Best to take her by surprise.

"Too bad... I was thinking of telling you how they all think I'm madly in love with you. But, no more bombshells, right?"

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Yeah, yeah... I'm leaving you hanging. See you on the third hour. ;)


	3. The 3rd Hour

**Disclaimer: **ST: VOY is not mine.

**Author's Note: **Third and final hour. :)

**Atypical**

**By mistress amethyst une**

**The 3rd Hour**

She was speechless. He was telling her this now? Way to go, Commander. This was an excellent time to make a love confession. In the middle of a ship-wide crisis… only better time she could think of for him to put on a display like this was if they were all about to be assimilated by the Borg. Still, it seemed that a lot of significant things happened when the ship was in peril… why not this?

Then again, maybe she was hearing things. Maybe an alien had infiltrated her brain and was tricking her into seeing her heart's desire again. She quickly dismissed that thought. No, this probably wasn't alien influence. Alien influence usually had her seeing something involving Mark or getting home or her crew in peril. Aliens really had to learn to look into her more recent memories. She did have other desires aside from getting back to Earth. She'd seriously wondered why she'd been happy when the telepathic pitcher plant had manipulated her into thinking she'd received a letter saying Mark's engagement was off. That was what she'd wanted most? Oh right… she'd wanted to go back to Earth, gather up the courage to kiss her handsome first officer senseless during the welcoming ceremony, and tell Mark, "In your face!" Yes, that's why she'd been happy about that.

"But that's just what they think," he said, looking annoyingly serene despite her shock. "Hypothetically speaking... I mean, based on my behavior. Do you think I'm in love with you?"

"C-commander," she stuttered. "This is hardly-"

"Because there's also been talk of a certain Starfleet ice queen being smitten with her lap dog. Completely baseless, I suppose. You know how children like to imagine things..."

"Are you intoxicated?" she blurted. All right, she hadn't meant to say that. Excellent response, Janeway.

"Do I seem drunk to you?" he answered, still intent on playing his little game.

"What do you expect me to say?"

"I expect you to say what you think. Do you think they're right? Do you think I'm in love with you?"

Uncomfortable didn't even begin to describe how she felt. She was sure a blush had now set her head on fire.

"I'd be pretty smug if I said yes," she managed to reply.

"Being smug isn't a crime."

"And what if I do think you're in love with me?"

"Then I'd wonder if they were also right in assuming that you were in love with me too."

"And if they were correct in that assumption..."

He didn't seem to show much emotion at her subtle admission. Only smirked.

"I'd wonder why you didn't tell me."

And here we go. Was she going to give the stupid parameter and protocol speech now?

"I'd wonder that too..."

Where'd that come from?

"So, we'd both be clueless about why neither of us made the first move."

"One would suppose."

They didn't know what else to say, so they resumed walking. Made it all the way back to the turbolift, and sat by the cold metal doors in mutual silence. She finally cracked.

"All right. Non-hypothetical scenario. Real deal. I do think you're in love with me, and I am smug."

He guffawed. "You'd be right. Now, don't you have another confession to make?"

That eyebrow went up again. "I don't think so, you con man."

"I thought Tom was the con man on board."

"Oh no... you're a con man too. Dropping a bombshell when I specifically asked you not to."

"Well, your lap dog still has some bite left in him."

"More bite than I expected. Here I was, thinking you'd use a more... conventional approach."

"You mean a flowery romantic speech to sweep you off your feet? I already tried that. Remember?"

"How could I forget? I didn't know whether to laugh or tear up. You and your ancient legend..."

It was her turn to smirk. His face didn't falter.

"You were always such a good storyteller," she conceded. "I think you're the only one who can talk about 'rubber tree people,' and manage to keep a straight face. No offense."

"Is that why you were smiling so much when I was telling you that story about my father?"

"Sorry," she remarked, her smile genuinely apologetic. "I tried not to. I knew it was a serious matter but... the image it conjures up!"

"Well, 'rubber tree people' was the best translation we could come up with. The actual name of the tribe was too hard to pronounce. I'll confess, I had a tough time not laughing every time I said it."

He returned her smile. Nice to know that he could respect his heritage yet still find the humor in its little idiosyncrasies.

"So... now what?" she asked.

"We resolved the sexual tension."

"In a completely non-sexual way."

"Would you like to make it sexual?" he said suggestively, earning him an elbow to the ribs.

"Give a man an inch... how much brig time can I dish out for this little infraction?"

"What infraction?"

"Seducing a superior officer."

He chortled. "I think you're mistaken, Captain. You're the one who seduced a subordinate."

"Mutual seduction on the part of the two most senior officers aboard," she surmised. "Such a shame... and they say two wrongs don't make a right."

"Well, in this case... it looks like we'll both be serving brig time."

"Wouldn't want that. How shall we proceed? I intend to keep this private."

"Of course. What would the children think? Hm... children. We have over a hundred of them and didn't get to have any fun making a single one. If this was out in the open, the two of us would be setting such a bad example in terms of fraternization... and it's always been less than enjoyable watching one's parents engaging in public displays of affection."

"True, we'll have to be very discreet."

They heard a yell from the turbolift. They'd forgotten about the ensigns...

Her ears perked up as she pressed her ear against the cold, metal door. "Do you think they heard us?"

He listened as well. "No, I hear the same cries of hysteria. I don't think they know we're out here. I suggest we change our topic of conversation for now."

"Agreed. Maybe when tranporters are back online, we can... discuss this further."

"I look forward to my debriefing."

She gave him a gentle slap on the arm for being so crude, just as her combadge chirped.

"Torres to Janeway."

"Janeway here."

"Transporters are back online."

Excellent timing!

"See to it that everyone trapped in the turbolifts is transported to Sickbay. They'll need to recover from the stress of the past few hours."

"Aye. What about you and Commander Chakotay?"

Kathryn seemed to mull it over for a few seconds. "My ready room."

She could see the look of disappointment on his face, but her sly smile immediately erased that. The transporter beam shimmered them out of deck three and into her ready room.

"You asked for a debriefing," she said, that same sly smile on her face as she placed a hand on his chest and pushed him onto the couch. "You've got it. Just keep this quiet... wouldn't want to feed the children's wild imaginations."

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Whew! It's done. :) Well, that was fun. Practically wrote itself... now, what do I waste time on before summer school starts?


End file.
